


Harry, Merlin, and the Angsty Showdown of Doom

by Emachinescat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Crack, Humor, Major Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-13
Updated: 2011-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-13 16:12:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1232920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emachinescat/pseuds/Emachinescat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Merlin duke it out for the title of "Most Crapped On." Both have been through insanely angsty times, but what happens when they face off about who's had it worse... with a plethora of fellow characters as an audience and Gandalf as referee?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Part

**Author's Note:**

> Don't own any of the fandoms mentioned in the story, for entertainment purposes only.
> 
> This is purely a crack!fic that the evil, conniving little plot demons shoved into one of my ears whilst taking a shower. They must have plugged up the other ear because I couldn't get this out of my head. Also, note: this takes a light-hearted tone on the angsty stuff in both Harry and Merlin. Oh, and this contains spoilers from just about everything. :P
> 
> Enjoy. :)

Grief-ridden eyes, so clear, bright and blue, glistening like the waves of the ocean on a melancholy winter day glared into equally watery, emerald green eyes hidden partially behind thick lenses. Tension was high and emotions ran rampant as the two held each other's gaze in what seemed to be a staring contest to the death.

Both boys were slight, tall, skinny, and lanky for their ages – roughly twenty-two and seventeen, respectively. Both had dark hair – the first, short raven locks brushing his forehead and the second, longer, jet-black and unruly clumps of hair that seemed to have been haphazardly glued to his skull (but in an attractive bed-head, 'I don't care about brushing my hair because I'm a hero and I don't have to if I don't want to' type way).

They sat across from each other at a round table (and no, not the Round Table, Arthur was being a bit of a prat today and refused to share) in a dismal graveyard somewhere in the European countryside. The graveyard had been selected to host today's game because it created the right atmosphere and because Nearly Headless Nick had graciously offered to let them use the site of his burial as repayment for Harry going to his Deathday Party all those years back.

A small crowd had gathered around the two young men, anticipatory grins on their faces and hankies weighing their pockets down. There were several familiar faces in the crowd – the Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, the Weasley twins (minus one brother and an ear), Arthur Pendragon, Morgana (smirking, naturally), what was left of the Order of the Pheonix, Gwen, Hagrid, Seamus Finnagin, Professor McGonagall, Lee Jordan, Molly Weasley, Dudley (no one knew how he got here or who invited him – oh wait, maybe it wasn't Dudley; It might have been Gilli), a few other random people from our favorite BBC drama and book series/blockbuster movie collection, and Gandalf the Gray. Gandalf was there because he was awesome – enough said – and also because he had been chosen to be the referee for this fine event (he had some time off from being epic in Middle Earth so he accepted the invitation, and hey, what the heck, if Harry Potter and Merlin can spontaneously get together for a rendezvous, why couldn't Lord of the Rings get in on the action?) . Rita Skeeter was there as well, her Quick Quotes Quill scribbling away on a piece of parchment.

Everyone was excited. This was going to be better than the 2004 Quidditch World Cup and the battle for Camelot combined.


	2. The Second Part

Gandalf had conjured a magical scoreboard above the (but, remember, not  _the_ ) round table that sat smack dab in the center of the graveyard and waved his hand in the air, saying in a loud, authoritative voice, "You may  _begin_!" At his final word, random fireworks shaped like tear drops exploded into the misty air and Harry glared at Merlin as he began to talk.

"My parents were killed – murdered – by a sadistic dark wizard when I was one year old," he announced mournfully. There was a collective gasp from the 'Merlin' side of the crowd – the 'Harry Potter' side didn't so much as flinch seeing as they'd heard this story so many times they could recite it – and in fact, many of them, including George Weasley, mouthed along with him as he spoke. Harry gritted his teeth and kept talking. His voice was thick with emotion. "He tried to kill me, too, but because of my mother's love, her  _sacrifice_ , I lived, with this scar on my forehead as a constant reminder of my terrible past."  _Ding!_  Harry was given a point on the giant scoreboard in the sky.

He looked forlorn for half of a second then smirked at Merlin. "Beat that."

Merlin bit his lip and turned his lean face to one side, looking every bit the tortured hero. "I grew up in a small village called Ealdor. From a very young age, I knew I was special."

Harry snorted. "I was too  _young_  to know how special  _I_  was because  _my_  parents were  _killed_  before I had that chance." He poked out his lower lip and the sound of Gwen blowing her nose echoed through the crowd.  _Ding!_  Harry's score slid from one to two. Merlin glowered.

"Be that as it may," Merlin continued, "I couldn't let anyone – not even my closest friends –"

"I didn't have any friends," Harry interjected mournfully.  _Ding!_  Dudley/Gilli snorted while Ron crossed his arms over his chest and looked bored. Hermione saw this and elbowed him in the chest and Ron straightened up, indignant, annoyed, and  _hungry_  (because Ron was always hungry). Arthur yawned and poked Lee Jordan with his sword and Lee turned it into a tarantula. Arthur yelled and tossed the spider over his shoulder, which landed on Ron's head. Ron let out a girlish squeal of fright and dropped into a dead faint while Professor McGonagall rolled her eyes and Luna Lovegood (who wasn't here in the introduction because the author was an idiot and forgot to mention her. The author now gravely apologizes and has added Luna – as well as Gaius, another person she forgot to put into the introduction – into this story. Uther still isn't invited because he hasn't read the seventh Harry Potter book yet and he doesn't want any spoilers.) read the Quibbler upside down. Harry and Merlin continued to stare each other down while Gandalf massaged one temple.

Merlin continued, miffed. "—know about my powers or I might be  _killed_."  _Ding!_ He looked Harry deep in the eyes. "Tell me, Harry Potter, do you carry your magic at the risk of certain death?"

"Ooooooh…" the crowd mumbled as the tension grew. Harry shuffled his feet. "Well… no – but, _but_  I lived in a cupboard under the stairs most of my life." Gandalf stared at the sky. Ron scratched his nose. Dudley/Gilli (although Harry was becoming pretty certain it was Dudley) giggled. Arthur glared at Lee Jordan viciously for turning his sword into a spider and Lee Jordan hummed the Sorting Hat's song. Hermione and Gwen started trading hair curling secrets which Morgana promptly tried to steal, but with a quailing look from Professor Minerva McGonagall, the evil lying she-witch of doom was sent into the corner (even though they were outside), a pout/smirk on her face. The scoreboard let out a half-hearted peep and Harry's score changed from 3 to 3 1/2. Merlin snorted back laughter. Harry glared.

" _What_?" he demanded in Gandalf's general direction. "That cupboard was tiny! I deserve to get at _least_  a full point for that!"

Merlin smirked and then groaned, glaring at Morgana. "Oh,  _great!_ " he practically shouted. "Thanks, Morgana, now  _I'm_ doing it too!"

Morgana smirked.

"And as for your parents," Merlin said, smiling sympathetically at Harry, "I  _am_ sorry for your loss." He paused. " _But…_  at least you were too young to really remember what happened."

"I have nightmares," Harry informed him.  _Ding!_

"Well,  _my_  father  _died in my arms!_  The day after I met him!" Merlin cried, eyes becoming moist and angry at the injustice of it all. Even the  _ding_  of the scoreboard didn't help him feel better. Okay, maybe it did. A little.

"That's bad, I'll admit," Harry announced, his voice rising as he drew in the crowd. Gwen was crying at all these sad revelations, clinging onto Arthur desperately. Arthur looked quite happy with this development. "But  _all_  my father figures are dead!" He paused for dramatic effect. Gaius raised his eyebrow. Lee Jordan chuckled and asked Arthur where his sword was. Arthur nearly turned Lee Jordan into a puddle of pain. George Weasley stuck his finger in the hole in the side of his head. Harry ticked them off on his fingers. "I lost my real dad when I was a baby! And then, in book five – which was the most  _angsty_  of all my books, I threw a temper tantrum and everything – S-Sirius was killed! And in book six, Dumbledore died—" (somewhere within the crowd, Hagrid blew his nose and it sounded like a freight train) "—and in book seven…" He paused.

Merlin raised his eyebrows. "Yes? Who died in book seven?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably before glaring in the general direction of J.K. Rowling's house. "Well… everyone else, basically." He sighed. "But father figure wise, it was Lupin…"

"Hmmm…" Merlin seemed to mull this over as the scoreboard went wild. Harry clenched his fists, thinking that he'd won. Before Merlin could continue, there was a disturbance as Neville Longbottom, who had left the story before the introduction to go hunt down his toad, Trevor, came trotting back into view, a tall, devilishly rugged and handsome man with long brown hair in tow. Arthur stared. "Gwaine?"

Neville grinned. "I didn't find Trevor, but I did find this guy!"

Gwaine staggered over into the crowd, obviously very drunk and very, very happy about it. There was a bottle of ale in his hand and he took another swig. "Oi, the fun – and ale – has arrived!" he announced. "Except I only brought enough for me, so you'll have to get your own."

Hermione scoffed, turning to Luna who was trying to make the Nargles come out by singing to them. "Ppphht,  _boys_."

Gwaine saw the girls, grinned, and shot back, " _Oooh,_ girls!" in a very excited voice.

Before Hermione could throw something at him, there was the sound of a boat parking nearby (a _boat parking?_! And the author began to question her sanity.) and seconds later, an equally drunk, but much more scruffy, dirty, but somehow equally as gorgeous man in a pirate's getup sauntered onto the scene,  _Pirates of the Caribbean_ theme song following him.

Captain Jack Sparrow wandered up to Gwaine and smiled that sneaky, piratey smile of his that made  _Pirates_  the sensation it is and asked, "Did someone say rum?"

Gwaine shook his head and tightened his grip on the bottle. "No. I said ale. And it's mine."

Jack Sparrow ignored Gwaine's surge of alcoholic protectiveness and grinned. "Ah, but ale and rum are related, first cousins twice removed, I might add…."

Gwaine took one last swig and tossed the bottle over his shoulder. "Sorry mate," he grinned easily at Jack Sparrow. "All gone. But you can stay and watch the show if you like." He snickered.

Jack looked offended. "Why is the rum always gone?" he asked as he walked away.

Gwaine called after him, gleeful, "Because I'm Gwaine, mate. With me, the rum is  _always_  gone."

The boat pulled out and Jack was gone and everyone sat in stunned silence for a moment. "Was that?" Merlin asked, trailing off.

Gandalf sighed and wished he was anywhere b – even battling a dragon or something equally as ferocious. Harry nodded. "Sometimes I wonder if we're just figments of a crazed fan-girl's imagination, a crazed fan-girl that delights in making fun of our woeful pasts and thinks she can make anyone walk into our story just because she's in control of the keyboard."

Merlin laughed. "You're crazy." He scratched his chin. "You know, Harry, you may have had a crappy childhood – I'll give you that. But look at you now." He nodded at Ron and Hermione. "Who are those two people?"

Harry looked back and waved at his friends. "Those are my best friends," he answered, not sure where this was going.

Merlin smiled. "Oh, how nice. I had a best friend once. His name was Will. Do you know what happened to Will, Harry?"

Harry shrugged.

"Will died in my arms."

"Dobby died in my arms!" Harry scrambled for something to one-up Merlin but Merlin just glared.

"Dobby," Merlin glowered, "was the most  _epic_  and  _amazing_  elf in the  _universe_  and you're going to _use_  his memory for your own advantage?" He bit his lip. "I'm shocked, Harry, truly, I am."

McGonagall nodded in the crowd. "He has a point, Potter," the Transfiguration teacher announced. "Five points from Gryffindor."

Harry stared. "B-but, I'm not even  _at_ Hogwarts anymore!"

Merlin continued. "Who's that pretty red-headed girl blowing kisses at you, Harry? Is that Ginny? Is she your true love?" Harry nodded. "Do you know what happened to  _my_  true love?" Harry shook his head. "She died in my arms!" Merlin choked out, haunted.

Lee Jordan leaned over to George Weasley. "Hey George, you noticing a pattern here?"

George nodded solemnly, the ghost of a grin on his face. "Yep – stay away from Merlin –  _and_  his arms!"

"Well, you should read book five," Harry bragged. "Like I said, it's so angsty that I blew up, yelled at all my friends, accused them of not caring – multiple times – and threw shiny silver things across Dumbledore's office! I haven't seen  _you_  have an angsty breakdown, Merlin."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Two reasons. One, I have a backbone." The crowd buzzed as the air went cold. "And two – if I were to have a spazz session like  _you_  did, Harry,  _I'd_  end up dead because of the secrets that would be revealed!"  _Ding!_

Both jumped – they had almost forgotten about the scoreboard being there. "I've been tied to a gravestone, had my arm slashed open, been bitten by a basilisk, fallen off of a broomstick from fifty feet in the air, dangled over a Quidditch pitch, been rejected by Cho for a sparkling vampire, broken my arm and then lost all the bones in it, having to re-grow them painfully during the night, and I've been killed – well, sort of – by Voldemort before I defeated him,  _and_  I've been tortured with the Cruciatis curse!"

Merlin laughed. "I've been tortured with that, too!" Harry cocked his head and Merlin rolled his eyes. "Emachinescat," he said in explanation. "She's this fan-fiction writer who must really have it in for me. She says I'm her favorite character and that she loves me, but she's always torturing me in her stories. And in her crossover, while you were snogging Morgana,  _I_  was chained to a wall being tortured by Lord Voldemort."

"Fan-fiction doesn't count!" Harry whined.

"Does too!" Merlin snapped back.

"No, it  _doesn't_!" Harry protested.

"Will you just be quiet?" Gandalf roared. Both looked at him in surprise. "Why didn't I stay in Middle Earth?" Gandalf wondered. He shrugged at Harry. "Sorry, boy – everything's fair game."

Merlin looked smug. "Ha." He continued, " And I've had my fair share of injuries as well, although for the most part the show tends to completely skip over any good opportunities to do me harm, something Emachinescat complains about on a daily basis."

Harry grimaced. "She sounds like a terrible person."

Merlin gasped and crouched down, leaning in. "Shhh!" His eyes flickered upwards fearfully. "She'll hear you."

Harry, too, glanced up and saw nothing but the melancholy sky. "You were saying?"

Merlin cleared his throat, glanced haphazardly at the sky. "Er… yes." He sighed. "You know, I think I'm just going to quote myself from the second episode of season two. I couldn't say it better than that. Ahem: 'I haven't had a chance to sit around and do nothing from the day I arrived in Camelot; I'm too busy running around after Arthur. 'Do this, Merlin, do that, Merlin!' And when I'm not running around after Arthur, I'm doing chores for [Gaius], and if I'm not doing that, I'm fulfilling my destiny! Do you know how many times I've saved Arthur's life? I've lost count. Do I get any thanks? No. I have fought griffons, witches, bandits, I have been punched, poisoned, pelted with fruit and all the while I have to hide who I really am because if anyone finds out, Uther will have me executed. Sometimes I feel like I'm being pulled in so many directions I don't know which way to turn!'"

There was silence for a beat before Gandalf dryly commented, "Please, Merlin, tell us how you really feel."

Arthur glared at Merlin. "What do you mean, saving my life?"

Merlin pointed somewhere over Arthur's head. "Oh look," he ventured lamely. "A distraction." He turned back to Harry. "I have to deal on a near daily basis with a prat who berates me every chance he gets, a dragon that only speaks in riddles, and a king who would kill me as soon as look at me!" He leaned forward, almost nose to nose with Harry. "And if this won't convince you, there's no help for you." He took a deep breath, eyes wide and more terrified, more scared and saddened and grieved and horrified than Harry had ever seen. Voice filled with dread and tension, Merlin whispered, " _Merthur_."

Harry opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. He gulped, casting a glance at Arthur in the crowd, who was looking increasingly horrified. "Are you… are you… serious?" Harry whispered.

Merlin nodded. "Dead serious… and some of them… are…" He closed his eyes and shuddered. "Let's just say, the fan-fiction world of Merthur is  _not_ a pretty place."

Arthur's eyes grew troubled. "Hang on," he said in Merlin's general direction. "How do  _you_ know?"

There was tense silence before Harry broke it with a chuckle. "Well, you think you've got it bad. Ever heard of Hraco?"

There was the sound of gagging and everyone turned to see Ron throwing up into Arthur's helmet. Merlin nodded, pale. "Point taken."

Gandalf, whose face had made its way into his hands by this time, finally came back to the world and stood tall. "ALRIGHT!" he bellowed. "This has gone on long enough – I've got a ring to deliver to a short, hairy man in just a few moments."

At the same time, Harry said, "Awww, you know Professor Flitwick?" and Merlin said, "Oh, you've met Gretir!"

Gandalf rolled his eyes. "I think," he said, standing tall, and looking more impressive than Mrs. Weasley after she killed Bellatrix Lestrange (EPIC!), "it's time for a verdict to be made so that we can get this over with and all go home."


	3. The Third Part

Everyone was silent as they waited for the verdict. Some were anxious to find out who was the most angsty in the land. Most had reached the point where they couldn't care less and were just eager for it to be over so they could go home and  _not_  be in this story anymore.

"You've decided, Gandalf?" Harry asked, green eyes wide in anticipation. At the front of the crowd, Rita Skeeter's Quick Quotes Quill poised itself readily above the paper. Arthur was petting his sword-spider (whom he had dubbed Excalispider) and Ron was cowering from it. Hermione was tapping her foot impatiently and Professor McGonagall was glaring at Lee and George, who had just decided to give Trevor back to Neville (seems they had taken the toad all along) and Gwaine was humming, "Yo yo, it's a pirate's life for me."

Gandalf nodded. "I have. But before I give my final decision, you must  _all_  listen to me." He paused. "This whole  _thing_  is idiotic. Fighting over who has had the most horrible life? If you must fight about anything, let it be something noble, like freedom, justice, or the last Cool Ranch Dorito." His words were wise and no one tried to contradict him although Ron did perk up at the mention of junk food. Doritos  _were_  a noble cause.

The great wizard continued, "To argue over your terrible past, re-surfacing painful memories, using your misfortunes and the misfortunes of others to gain respect, sympathy, or more points?"

Merlin looked like he'd just been hit. "B-but…"

Gandalf sighed. "I can see that you are set in your ways. But first I'd like to remind you that you two are not the only characters in existence to go through bad times." He snapped his fingers and Luke Skywalker popped out of nowhere.

"Take  _THAT_  you dastardly Sith!" he crowed as he swung his Jedi light saber and nearly took Neville's nose off. He looked up and glanced around. "Whoa. Where am I?"

Gandalf waved his hand in Luke's direction. "For example, you two may have lost your fathers in tragic, but at least your father didn't cut off your hand and try to  _kill_  you because you wouldn't come to the Dark Side!"

Gwaine grinned. "I'd go to the Dark Side," he informed anyone who would listen. "They have ale, I'm told." Arthur threw Excalispider at him and Gwaine laughed drunkenly.

Hermione scoffed. "Everyone  _knows_  the Dark Side doesn't have ale, Gwaine," she said in her classic know-it-all voice. Sniffing disdainfully, she corrected, "They have cookies."

Gwaine chortled. "That'll work."

Luke's lower lip trembled. "Gee, thanks, Mr. Magic. I  _really_  needed that memory brought up  _now_."

Gandalf ignored him and sent him away with a flick of his wrist. He snapped again and some guy with a beard and frilly clothing appeared. Arthur laughed at his terrible attire. "Who the heck is that?"

The man opened his mouth to speak but Gandalf beat him to it. " _This_  is Hamlet. His father was murdered by his uncle who then married his wife. The girl he loved killed herself and her brother blamed Hamlet for her death and challenged him. They both died in the duel, along with Hamlet's mother."

Hamlet paled. " _What?_ " he wailed. "I'm going to  _die?_ "

Gandalf grimaced. "Er… sorry, Hamlet." He flicked his wrist and Hamlet was gone.

"Okay, I'm not sure what this is all about –" Harry begun but Gandalf shushed him and everyone watched as he conjured yet another character to the graveyard. This one was strange and short – not human, definitely some kind of monster – and was furry and red, with a round nose and big expressive eyes.

"Elmo?" someone blurted. "Why did you bring  _Elmo_  from _Sesame Street_?" It was Dudley/Gilli who said this (almost positive it was Dudley because Gilli never had a chance to watch the show, considering how he grew up in medieval times and all).

"Elmo has lost something very dear to him as well," Gandalf informed them gravely.

Elmo nodded, sniffling cutely. "Elmo lost his crayon!" the red monster cried and Gandalf sent him away. Merlin blinked and exchanged a confused look with Harry. Gandalf wiped a tear from his eye and Gwen blew her nose. Even Arthur looked emotional after that last testimony.

"There is one more thing you need to see," Gandalf said. He waved his hand and suddenly Edward Cullen had appeared in the middle of the graveyard and everyone had to hide their eyes because he sparkled so brightly.

Arthur sneered. "What? Are you going to tell them that it could be worse, that they could be in love with a girl that smells like their favorite food?"

"Or that we could have to be doomed to suck the blood of beasts for eternity?" Harry added.

"Or that we could be soul-less?" Merlin suggested.

Gandalf held up a hand and silenced everyone while Edward stood there sparkling. " _No_ ," Gandalf sighed. "However, you should count yourselves lucky because you  _could_ be a disco ball with feet."

Everyone looked at Edward, who was shining brightly. His topaz eyes watered. " _Hurtful!_ " he moaned but Gandalf just sent him away. Everyone sighed in relief.

Harry nodded and Merlin acknowledged, "You have a point."

"But we still want to know who wins," Harry tagged on quickly.

Gandalf sighed. "Have you learned nothing?"

"If I say yes, will you make me the winner?" Harry asked.

"No."

"Oh."

There was silence and then Gandalf spoke up. "The winner," he announced, "is…" (Lee Jordan played the drums on Arthur's helmet, which was on his head, which made Arthur growl.) "… MERLIN!"

Harry's mouth dropped open. "How? What? B-b-but…"

Gandalf shrugged. "Sorry, boy. But while you've experienced true horrors in your past, and, yes, lots of angst and loss, Merlin is  _still_  feeling it. You're free, Harry, Voldemort –"

"—don't say the name!" Ron squawked.

"—is dead, and you don't have to hide anymore. But Merlin does. Every day, he has to hide his magic from Uther. Plus, almost everyone he loves has died in his arms. Your family didn't die in your arms, although it is still just as traumatic. But if it makes you feel any better, both of your lives _stink_  on ice." He grimaced. "Plus, there was one clinching factor in deciding whose life is the worst and it contributed to my final decision just about five minutes ago."

"What's that?" Merlin asked, who was trying to figure out how he felt after discovering that his life was the crappiest.

"Him." Gandalf pointed at the crowd and Merlin gasped. Standing there, having witnessed who knows how much of the display, was Uther (no one had noticed him before because he is secretly a ninja  _and_  because he had just gotten here five minutes ago). A vein in his ear twitched. Gandalf smiled. "Well, it's been fun, but I've got some shampoo to deliver to an elf, an enraged dwarf to calm down, and some monsters to kill. Bye now." He disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Merlin looked around at the crowd, then at Uther, then at Harry, who winced sympathetically as he scooted away. "Well, congrats, mate," he said, rushing away. "Looks like your life sucks. Good luck with that!"

Merlin grumbled and sneaked a look at Uther – gasping. Lee Jordan and George Weasley had apparently offered him a Ton-Tongue Taffy and his tongue was snaking out of his mouth, at least four feet long already. Arthur was kissing Gwen and hadn't noticed. Uther coughed and strangled on his tongue and Merlin flopped his head down on the table.

_Great. Just… great._


End file.
